Percy Jackson and Harry Potter crossover

Scotland

The sunlight filtered through the silk curtains, following the breeze like an afterthought.

In the corner, the fountain gurgled and spurted out a stream of water. A constant rush of a tiny cataract. The liquid threw indistinct blobs on the wall, like inside an aquarium, illuminated by the light.

Percy blinked tiredly, rubbing the gunk out of his eyes. For a moment, he laid there silently, legs tangled in his blankets, hair splayed over his forehead. Mutely, he noted that he needed a haircut. 

Someone laughed outside, distant and familiar, followed by what sounded like a small explosion. Also distant. Also familiar.

The clock beside him winked seven o'clock at him.

He groaned and shifted, catching his bearings as he stared blankly around the room. A part of him urged him to get up, to dress, and then to run toward the dining pavilion. A part of him screamed that he was late to something.

But when Percy tried to remember just exactly what, he drew up empty. Feeling uneasy at the less-than-welcomed thoughts (so similar to his days roaming around after training with Lupa), he slid out of bed, bare feet touching the bare floor. A wave of homesickness crashed onto him, like a delayed reaction of nostalgia, and Percy frowned.

Deciding not to dwell on the situation that caused him brain-pain so early in the morning, he slowly tugged a random shirt on (after, of course, the customary sniff to make sure it didn't smell like someone died in it) and shuffled out of his cabin, shielding his eyes from the brightness. 

He took a while to take in the scene, head turning languidly to the left, then the right, imprinting the panorama into his mind. Still, something nagged at him. 

"Hey."

Percy startled, and then turned to face the familiar countenance of his girlfriend. Annabeth smiled at him, blonde curls alight, gray eyes reflecting the sun. Three books were tucked under her arm, large tomes that Percy would've never touched in his lifetime if he could help it.

"Got your sleep?"

"Yeah," Percy said hesitantly, trying to smush the feeling of intense joy away. He was always happy when he saw Annabeth, but this was bordering on clingy. Like he had spent a year away from her rather than . . .

"Good. You better not go on a quest so soon again. I had to copy down an extra copy of notes, so you better read through them thoroughly, seaweed brain."

"Quest?"

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. For Hecate."

When Percy did not respond, she rolled her eyes in exasperation like, honestly, how do I deal with him?  "She called you to retrieve something for her."

As if that had triggered something, a wave of memories hit him like a sluggish river. Moments of sleeping with his head propped on his backpack. Traveling across New York and into parts of Minnesota, trying to catch up to rumors and gossip. 

"Oh. Yeah. I think I'm going to smell like polecat fart for the rest of my life."

Annabeth laughed, and gently pushed him to the mess hall. Percy dazedly walked forward. Again, he felt conflicted, but as soon as he posed the dozens of questions in his head, a soothing sensation fell upon him, and he found himself relaxing.

Right. Back from a quest of chasing polecats and trying to avoid being turned into one. And now I'm back, alive. Which means food time.

It was late enough that Camp Half-Blood was already streaming with activities. He watched as someone fell off the Rock Climbing wall, and then shot back up and attempted it again. Pegasuses (Pegasi?) flew around leisurely, some with demigods on their backs.